


Drift onward (and I will tether you)

by TimesBeingWhatTheyAre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crying Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e14 My Bloody Valentine, Gen, MILD - Freeform, Pre-Slash, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre/pseuds/TimesBeingWhatTheyAre
Summary: “Haven’t you wondered Dean?”No, he’d already known and hadn’t wanted to confirm it, not even in the depths of his own mind.“You aren’t hungry Dean, because you’re already dead inside,”And he’d known it to be true.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 53





	Drift onward (and I will tether you)

“P-Please,” Dean breathed out, and looked up at the stars, unsure of what he was even praying to when he knew the only angel who cared was in the building behind him.

God wasn’t real. Or God was gone. God couldn’t help and yet-

He closed his eyes briefly and swallowed, biting his lips to stop them from trembling and feeling his eyebrows crease inwards in despair even as he tried desperately to stop wishing for something that could never be. He thought instead of Famine’s words, soft as poison slipping through his mind.

_“Haven’t you wondered Dean?”_

No, he’d already known and hadn’t wanted to confirm it, not even in the depths of his own mind.

_“You aren’t hungry Dean, because you’re already dead inside,”_

And he’d known it to be true.

It wasn’t like it was a new thing; not wanting to get up in the mornings, not wanting to do anything, not wanting anything, but in the days Before he’d had Sam. When Sam had left for Stanford, Dean had gone weeks without speaking to anyone. When Sam had left, Dad left too and Dean spent the week in the motel room, unable to drag his unwieldy body out of the bed and into a world without Sammy. It had taken almost ten missed phone calls from Bobby to force him to move on, and even then he’d spent a large portion of his time just drifting. And Sam? Since Dean had come back from hell, he’d just been losing his brother more each day. Hell had already broken what Dean had barely managed to tape together, and these days Dean knew that Michael and Lucifer were inevitable.

He had said “Team Free Will” and all along he’d never truly believed it could be possible. Ironic.

Dean smiled ruefully and picked up the bottle next to him. He didn’t relish its bitter taste, nor the way it burnt its way down his throat, but he knew that drunk was better than sober and that was what he needed to be. He swigged down a gulp and leant back against the car, scrubbing away the tear that had managed to trickle down from his eyes when he wasn’t paying attention, and looked out across the graveyard of cars. The night was silent, and Dean was loosely aware that he shouldn’t let down his guard whilst only carrying the bare minimum of weapons, but equally, he didn’t much care. It wasn’t like he was going back in there.

Suddenly, a voice came out of nowhere and startled him into dropping the beer.

“Dean,”

Dean jumped and whirled around with the silver blade from his wrist holster already in his hands, knife already ready to slice by the time he registered the voice.

“Shit, Cas, give a guy a little warning, would’ja?” Dean complained in exasperation, putting away the blade and leaning back against the Impala again. “Why are you out here?” Cas asked, and Dean rolled his eyes. “I already told you. Some air,”

“Then why were you praying?” Cas asked again, not seeming to notice or care that Dean’s exasperation had turned more to a glare with the continued interrogation.

“Could you not intrude, for once?” Dean replied angrily, turning his back on Cas and bending down to pick up the bigger bits of the glass bottle that had shattered with Cas’ appearance.

“But Dean, I hear prayers. I do not understand,” the angel said with his usual look of mild confusion.

“Is this because Famine said that you were empty?”

Dean’s hands jolted as he heard Cas say out loud the words that he’d been thinking in his head ever since their earlier encounter.

“Because I do not agree. It is physically impossible to be dead inside, and also you are-“ “Shut up Cas,” Dean muttered quietly, staring a little panicked at the floor, hating the way the phrases rung around his head.

“Dean?” Cas asked, his head tilted slightly to the side. “I said shut up!” Dean shouted, standing up to face his friend with wild eyes, burning slightly with moisture that he desperately tried to will away. His hands were shaking.

“Dean, you are injured,” Cas said suddenly, and stepped closer to Dean, who flinched back a step without thinking. He glanced down at his hands and- huh, Cas was right. There was blood dripping down his forearm from a nick that the glass had made on his wrist, and Dean quietly dropped the rest of the glass back to the floor, the pain beginning to register in his brain.

“Let me heal it,” “No,” Dean whispered, and turned away from Cas slightly. He could feel the pain more now, and it lit up nerves in a way that Dean had almost forgotten existed.

“But you are hurt,” Dean screwed up his eyes and laughed, head tilted back in almost pitying mirth.

“Yeah Cas. And you can’t fix me,”

“I can,” Cas responded, ever literal and Dean turned to face him head on.

"Cas, the type of hurt I am- you can’t mojo it away. It’s a little more permanent than that,” he explained lightly, and this time he stayed still as the angel approached.

“But I can. Look,” Cas responded, still confused by the conversation, and he reached out and pressed two fingers to where the blood was still dripping from. It glowed lightly beneath his touch and vanished, along with all the blood that had been leisurely coating Dean’s top with a new pattern. Dean looked down slowly at his newly healed arms and cracked a small grin. His eyes burned again with tears, and this time he didn’t bother trying to hide them as he looked at the unblemished skin of his arm.

“Huh, look at that. I guess you can,”

"Dean? I do not understand. Dean?" Cas replied in confusion, the being barely a foot away and yet still so unused to human life and emotions. Regardless, he fell silent as the first of Dean's tears began to fall, and instead of attempting to go any further, he waited beside Dean, just as he had done outside the panic room earlier. He hadn't yet mastered comfort, but Cas knew that tears indicated emotional distress and he could learn how to react.

Dean smiled, and looked up at Cas a little helplessly, arms still loosely wrapped around his chest.

“I guess maybe you can,”


End file.
